Tony slept fitfully all night, and well into the next day. He woke several times, panicked and muddled, but calmed down after a few soothing words from Bucky, and drifted back off.

"He still has a fever," Bucky said worriedly, when night began falling on the second day.

"Yes, but it's not as high as it was," said the doctor, smiling tiredly. He listened to Tony's breathing, placing one end of a tubular device against Tony's chest and the other into his ears, then moved on to preparing another dose of Tony's medicine.

Bucky brushed his thumb over the patches of red on Tony's still-too-warm cheeks. "So he is getting better?" he asked, squeezing down on Tony's hand when he stirred.

"Of course he will," said T'Challa - surprising Bucky, who hadn't heard him come in. "I can tell: he's strong, this one."

Tony took a deep breath, and maybe it was Bucky's imagination, but it sounded stronger than his last.

"Yes," Bucky breathed. "Yeah, he is."

Bucky didn't leave Tony's side for the next three days.

A few times a day, a tray of food would appear for him. Bucky didn't feel like eating, so he barely touched it, until somebody took note and told T'Challa, who ordered him to. Bucky didn't sleep much, either, too afraid Tony might wake up or stop breathing again while he was unconscious. When T'Challa found out, he tried to order him to do that, too, and when that didn't work, had something put in his food. It didn't work - Bucky's body wasn't susceptible to most drugs, anymore, which was why he'd still eaten the soup when he'd tasted the sedative - but even Bucky, in all his gloom and worry, could admit the nonplussed looks on the Wakandans' faces when he didn't drop off was amusing.

Tony certainly would have thought so, anyway.

T'Challa visited every day, sometimes even two or three times a day. At first Bucky had thought it was to keep an eye on him, but more often than not he watched Tony, not Bucky, and often in silence - which was probably what puzzled Bucky the most. He kept expecting T'Challa to continue the promised interrogation, and instead, silence.

Then, when he did start asking questions, they were usually about Tony: What was he like? What did he like? What foods did he enjoy?

Bucky answered the best that he could, surprising himself with just how much he knew. He started welcoming the distraction, even, because it meant he could still think about Tony without directly worrying about him.

"He was actually kinda excited, when he found out we were here," Bucky found himself saying on the second afternoon of his vigil. He smiled to himself, remembering the way Tony had perked up despite their situation, and set his hand on Tony's leg over the blanket. "Lookin' around, I kinda see why; he's smart, really smart, leagues ahead of everyone else I know, and bein' in a place like this, with the technology that you have, would probably make him feel like a child in a candy stall."

"I will have to give him a tour, when he awakens," T'Challa said, and while Bucky couldn't be sure, he thought he might have seen one corner of T'Challa's mouth tick up a fraction.

Over time, Bucky noticed his guard becoming less heavy. He thought it might have been an issue of space - between Bucky, the doctors, the Dora Milaje, and T'Challa, the room could get quite crowded - and then decided that T'Challa had simply come to the conclusion that Bucky wasn't going to go anywhere while Tony was bedridden.

On the third day, two servants appeared with a stack of clothes, and an order from T'Challa to take a bath.

"I will watch over him while you are gone," the king said a little while later, when he entered the room and found that Bucky hadn't budged. "Clean yourself; he will not wish to see you like this when he opens his eyes, and I doubt the smell is helping his respiratory system."

Bucky still hadn't wanted to move, but conceded when T'Challa had gotten that dangerous look in his eye again, no doubt with a threat that involved having Bucky stripped and forcibly washed on the tip of his tongue.

When he came back, he found T'Challa reading aloud from a book, voice softer and calmer than Bucky had ever heard from him before. He paused when he noticed Bucky, but didn't look up, and continued again a moment later.

"A dragon story?" Bucky said hoarsely, once T'Challa had finished.

T'Challa closed his book and turned to face Bucky fully. "You said he liked them," he said. "So I thought, perhaps, that he might enjoy this one."

Swallowing thickly, Bucky looked over at Tony, and noticed, for the first time, that he was smiling in his sleep.

"Yeah," he said, collapsing in his usual seat, chest warm. "I think he did."

That night, after nearly four days of sitting at Tony's bedside, Bucky noticed that Tony's flush was missing.

He laid his flesh hand on Tony's forehead, heart skipping when he didn't feel the tell-tale burn of fever, and called one of the doctors, who checked as well, smiling widely as he confirmed Bucky's suspicion:

Tony's fever had broken.

Bucky woke up later with his head pillowed on his arms, and to the sensation of someone playing with his hair. He hummed, enjoying the feeling, and started to drift off again, the tingling in his scalp drifting down his spine and relaxing his muscles.

Then he remembered where he was - guarding Tony's sickbed, desperately hoping and waiting for him to wake up - and jerked his head up.

Tony smiled groggily at him.

"Your hair is soft," he mumbled tiredly, hand hovering between them.

Bucky blinked in shock, mouth falling open. Then he let out a sob and wrapped Tony up in a hug, nearly shaking apart while Tony weakly patted his back, and did his best to return it.

"I feel like you're cheating," Tony said with a frown, gaze darting from his hand to the pile of cards in the middle of the bed.

"A king does not cheat, Lord Anthony," T'Challa said gravely, drawing a card and adding it to his hand.

"But he does count cards," Tony noted, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

T'Challa's eyes sparkled with mischief. "As does a clever lord," he said archly, laying down his (winning) cards.

Bucky scowled and dropped his hand. "I knew it!" he cried, pointing an accusing finger at Tony. "I knew there was no way anybody could possibly be that good!"

Tony sniffed indignantly. "Do you see?" he told T'Challa mournfully, a hand to his chest. "Do you see the slander and disrespect I must put up with?"

T'Challa patted his knee in sympathy. "He is just upset because we have won three apples, four sweets, and his first two children," he said dolefully, mouth twitched when he looked at Bucky.

Bucky gave the pair of them the stink eye. "For starters, it's only two apples," he said, scooping up the cards. "And second of all, I'm upset because I was cheated out of them. And out of all of those games we played before!"

Tony threw a hand over his eyes and sighed dramatically. "You wound me," he said, grinning and peeking at Bucky around his fingers. "Is that any way to speak to an invalid?"

Bucky stopped shuffling cards, and raised an eyebrow. "Invalid, now, are you?" he asked, before reaching down and pinching Tony's foot, which he'd had resting on Bucky's thigh.

Tony squeaked and yanked his foot back, curling up and retreating up against the headboard, where Bucky couldn't reach him. "Abuse!"

"I'm afraid I must agree with James," T'Challa said, grinning, while Bucky nearly fell off the bed laughing. "You move very quickly for an invalid, Tony."

Tony gave them both dirty looks. "Recovering invalid, then," he sniffed, inching back to his previous spot while glaring suspiciously at Bucky. "You should still be nicer to me."

Bucky and T'Challa exchanged glances. It had been four weeks since the day Tony had woken up lucid and without fever, and though he was making jokes about it now, he really was still in recovery. It was easy to forget, now, with him up and acting as lively as he was, but up until two weeks ago, he'd still been bedridden. This week had marked the first day he'd been able to walk around and explore the palace without losing his breath, and Bucky knew the doctors were still giving him pain medicine for his chest.

Bucky himself kept waking up from nightmares where Tony had stopped breathing, and fell asleep counting Tony's breaths instead of sheep, so the reminder of how close Tony had been to death's door wasn't so easy for him to shake off.

"We'll try," Bucky said after clearing his throat, keeping his tone lighter than he felt.

Tony frowned, picking up on the sudden drop in mood anyway, and rested his chin in his hands. "Hey, it was a joke, I was joking, what's with all the gloomy faces?" he grumbled, looking from Bucky to T'Challa, who'd become notably more somber as well. "Ugh, fine, no more cards. I'm tired of losing to T'Challa, anyway." He side-eyed T'Challa, earning a smile from the king, and then poked Bucky's leg. "Want to go for a walk?"

Bucky set down the cards he'd been shuffling. "I suppose…" he said slowly, looking over at T'Challa for permission. While one wouldn't have been able to tell from the free reign he'd been given, Bucky was, technically, still a prisoner. T'Challa had implied the palace was free for Tony to roam, and Bucky usually accompanied him, but almost always with a guard, or T'Challa himself in attendance.

"I'm afraid I have some things to attend to," T'Challa said, standing and stretching his arms. "So I won't be able to join you. But I believe both Ayo and Aneka are free to accompany you, if you wish."

Tony shrugged. "If they want. I think I've finally gotten to where I can navigate this place without getting lost," he said, sliding off the bed and shooting Bucky a sheepish grin over his shoulder. "Mostly I just wanted to walk to the library, anyway."

While he'd been stuck in bed, T'Challa had brought Tony several books from his expansive collection, which Tony had practically devoured, much to T'Challa's delight. As a result, T'Challa's library had become one of Tony's favorite places in the palace, and one of the first ones he'd visited once the doctors had given him leave to do so.

Bucky huffed and crossed his arms. "Oh, I see how it is," he grumbled in faux irritation. "You want me to climb and get the books you want, and carry them for you."

Tony beamed. "Yep," he said cheerfully, bending down to put his shoes on.

T'Challa chuckled. "That reminds me - there's an engineering book I wanted to show you, Tony. It isn't in English, so I'll have to translate it for you, but I thought it might interest you. Perhaps after lunch…?"

Another thing T'Challa had taken delight in: Tony's enthusiasm for Wakandan technology. He could sit for hours going over some of the intricacies of his country's inventions with Tony, explaining details and theories that made no sense to Bucky, but excited Tony to no end. Bucky, too, enjoyed watching them talk about it - not because the subject itself did anything for him, but because seeing Tony's face light up when he spoke about something he loved never failed to make him smile.

Like now.

"I look forward to it," Tony said, eyes shining with excitement. Then he caught sight of the no-doubt dopey smile on Bucky's face, and raised his eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Nothin'," Bucky replied, ducking his head so Tony wouldn't see his smile widening. "Just… engineering."

Tony ended up spending most of that afternoon with T'Challa, after their lively discussion somehow became a practical demonstration that involved Tony attempting to cannibalize a prototype engine model T'Challa had presented to him.

Tony was still talking about it early the next morning, mouth moving a mile a minute while he yanked on his clothes and Bucky lazed in bed.

"Are you sure T'Challa is okay with you just… taking it apart like that?" Bucky asked, looking politely up at the ceiling while Tony changed his trousers.

"Yes, of course! I mean, he didn't seem angry. He spoke for a long time with the other engineers when they came down to see what we were doing, but it didn't sound like angry Wakandan. I think." Tony stopped and frowned to himself, then shrugged and moved to put on his shoes. "Anyway, he said I could come down early and work on it again today, so it has to be okay."

Bucky huffed, and moved to get out of bed now that Tony was decent.

"Just so long as everyone is happy and nobody is throwing you out for taking apart their one-of-a-kind engines," he said as he stretched.

Tony stopped and stared at him for a second, eyes wide, then coughed and turned away. "You… could always come with me," he suggested, his tone almost… hopeful?

"I doubt T'Challa wants me there," Bucky replied, dropping his arms and glancing sideways at him.

"He wouldn't mind," Tony said quickly, turning back around. Bucky noticed his cheeks were flushed, and felt his own face drain of blood.

Quick as a flash, Bucky crossed the room and laid a hand on Tony's forehead, breathing a sigh of relief when he encountered cool skin.

Tony squawked indignantly and batted his hand away. "What's the matter with you?" he grumbled, face even redder than before. "Don't rush a man like that, jeez…"

Bucky frowned. "You're all flushed, I thought you had another fever," he said, feeling awkward.

Tony sniffed and rubbed at his face, turning away again so Bucky couldn't see it. "Of course I'm flushed, I'm excited. About the engine, I mean. Well, duh, of course about the engine, what else would I be - did you say you were coming? No? Because I changed my mind, you'll be bored, you probably wouldn't like it, I'm just going to-"

"I'll watch you work, for a little while," Bucky said, trying not to smile at Tony's nervous babble. It was cute, and the fact that he was doing it betrayed how much he really wanted Bucky there, even if Bucky didn't understand why.

Tony turned his head and blinked at him. "Oh," he said, before coughing and rubbing at his mouth. "Oh, okay, uh…"

Bucky grinned, and pulled at his shirt. "Just let me change first, and then I can…"

Tony swallowed, and then tilted his head towards the door. "I'll see meet you in the hall," he said quickly, before all but bolting from the room.

Bucky lasted a few hours before he dozed off. He woke up when a loud, metallic clang startled him awake.

Tony looked over at him and grinned sheepishly at him. "Sorry," he said, picking up the part he had dropped.

Bucky yawned and looked around, surprised when all he saw was Tony and two of T'Challa engineers, but no sign of T'Challa himself.

"T'Challa left an hour ago," Tony said, as if reading Bucky's mind. "He said something about having things to take care of. Oh, and he said he wanted to speak to you today, when he got the chance."

Bucky paused, his stomach flipping over. "Oh?"

"Uh-huh," Tony said, scowling when one of the engineers started arguing with him about something. "He said he'd wait 'til after we'd eaten, but you slept through lunch and I told him not to wake you - Yes, I know what I'm doing, this will be more efficient!"

Bucky cleared his throat, his jaw working with sudden tension. "Uh, I'm going to go for a walk, then. Wake myself up, and see if I can find him," he said, inching towards the door.

Tony didn't acknowledge him, too busy arguing his point to the engineer, so Bucky looked over at Okoye, who was watching with her arms crossed, and looked as if she was trying not to laugh.

"I'll make sure they don't kill him," she promised wryly, mouth twitching.

Bucky tried to smile at her, failed, and gave her a two-fingered salute instead.

After wandering around for over an hour, Bucky went back down to the workroom, only to find it empty, save for one of the engineers Tony had been working with.

"If you're looking for Lord Anthony, you just missed him. He left with King T'Challa about fifteen minutes ago," he said, cocking his head and frowning at the machine in front of him.

Bucky thanked him and ventured back upstairs, wondering how he could have missed T'Challa on the way over here, and where he and Tony could have gone. The library, maybe?

"Perhaps they're having dinner," Ayo, the Dora Milaje that had been tailing him, suggested when he asked her. "It's about that time, and Lord Anthony skipped lunch."

Bucky's stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd slept through lunch, too. "Good idea."

When he got to the dining room, however, it was empty. There was still food on the table, and a place for him to eat, but no sign of either T'Challa or Tony. Bucky frowned.

"If you're looking for Tony, he decided to take a plate up to his room and wait for you there," T'Challa's voice called from the balcony.

Bucky stiffened, then swallowed and turned towards the voice. "Tony said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Indeed. Eat first, however. I gather you're probably hungry."

Bucky swallowed and nodded, even though he wasn't sure if T'Challa could see him or not.

He ate mechanically, no longer really hungry, and noticed that Ayo was gone. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he noticed there wasn't anybody else in the room, save himself and T'Challa.

Throat dry, Bucky struggled to swallow down his next bite, then abandoned what was left of his food to join T'Challa on the balcony.

T'Challa turned his head towards Bucky and gave him a thin smile. "You look as though you're about to face your executioner," he observed, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky cleared his throat. "Am I?"

T'Challa frowned, brow furrowing, before his face smoothed out and he turned to look out into the jungle. "Tony told me, about you," he said calmly, instead of answering Bucky's question. "About the disease that is HYDRA. About their Winter Soldiers." He paused, then glanced briefly at Bucky, and away. "And about the hydra," he added, voice oddly soft.

Bucky felt himself tense.

"Do not be angry with him," T'Challa continued, holding a hand up for silence. "He did not wish to betray your trust, I can tell, but it was early in his recovery, when the pain medication made his tongue loose. He... wanted to protect you, I think, in case he took a bad turn." He stopped, then, as if he were struggling to find words, and then turned to face Bucky fully, shocking Bucky with the amount of sorrow in his expression. "I am sorry," he said, bowing his head. "I have done you a great wrong."

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, and it took several tries before he could get any words past his lips. "What?"

"I have let you suffer, these many weeks, letting you believe I was still holding you responsible for a crime that was not your fault," T'Challa said, eyes mournful. "Something for which I hope, in time, you'll be able to forgive me."

"For - forgive…?!" Bucky choked, before shaking his head and holding out his hand. "Your Majesty, there's nothing to forgive. How… how can you even say that, after, after everything I've-"

T'Challa stopped him by shaking his head. "No," he said, eyes hard. "This is where I have wronged you. You, my friend, are the one that has nothing to forgive," he said, gently but firmly.

Bucky gaped at him. "I murdered your father," he protested, voice cracking on the word 'father'.

T'Challa's face went stormy. "On the day you surrendered yourself, I told you I looked into the eyes of my father's killer the night he died," he said, mouth turned down at the corners. "If you recall, I also told you that, when I looked into your eyes, I did not see that man." He took a deep breath, then looked directly into Bucky's eyes and said, "That is because you, James Barnes, are not the man who killed my father. It may have been your body, and your face, but it was not you."

Bucky stared at T'Challa with wide eyes, stunned.

T'Challa gave him a sad smile. "But, since you don't seem to see that for yourself, I will say this…" He reached and placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I forgive you."

Bucky felt as if his lungs had run out of air. "Y-you, you shouldn't," Bucky choked. "I -"

"Was a victim, same as my father," T'Challa said firmly. "A prisoner in his own body, made to do terrible things in the name of your abusers." His mouth thinned, sad eyes filling with fury that wasn't directed at Bucky, and placed his free hand on Bucky's other shoulder as well. "In my opinion, there is truly nothing to forgive. But I feel as though you need to hear it, so you can begin forgiving yourself, if nothing else."

He gave both of Bucky's shoulders one more squeeze, and then let go. "I forgive you, James Barnes," he said, voice firm and eyes warm. "You are forgiven."

For a long time, Bucky couldn't say anything, throat too tight for words. Then:

"Thank you," Bucky said hoarsely, blinking back the embarrassing sting of tears.

T'Challa smiled, then returned his gaze to the jungle, hands resting comfortably behind his back.

Bucky followed his example, surreptitiously scrubbing at his face while T'Challa politely pretended not to notice.

They stood their for several minutes, drinking in the view, before T'Challa said, apropos nothing, "Tony tells me he is to be wed soon."

Bucky felt himself tense all over again. "That's right," he said neutrally, after a few seconds' pause.

T'Challa glanced sideways at him. "And yet, he's very clearly in love with you," he said calmly - casually, even, as though he was remarking upon the weather, or what he had eaten for breakfast.

Bucky looked him incredulously. "What?"

T'Challa chuckled softly. "It is not a secret, my friend," he said lightly. "You, yourself, know it as well, even if you refuse to acknowledge it."

Bucky hunched his shoulders and glared determinedly at his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said tonelessly, heart pounding in his ears.

T'Challa scoffed. "Don't you?" he asked cryptically, raising his eyebrows when Bucky jerked his head up.

"No, I don't," Bucky said sharply, gritting his teeth. "Tony-"

"Adores you," T'Challa said firmly. "Just as much, if not more, as you do him. It is obvious to anyone who sees the two of you together, and if you do not see it, then you are either blind, or willfully choosing to do so."

Bucky shook his head resolutely, stomach twisting. Because he wasn't blind - he had seen it. In the private smiles Tony shared with him, the long looks and revealing conversations, the affectionate touches that had gone both ways...

He'd had an inkling, ever since the hot spring. He'd been stubbornly ignoring it, telling himself he was reading all the wrong signs, but - even T'Challa, who barely knew them, could see it.

And yet:

"Doesn't matter," Bucky said hoarsely, still shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, because we can't - he's getting married," Bucky stressed, squaring his jaw. "To my best friend, no less."

"A man he does not love, and for political reasons, no less," T'Challa cut in. "You forget, arranged marriages in the aristocracy are the norm, not the exception. You would not be the first paramours that had to work around the arrangement."

Bucky laughed humorlessly. "How?" he asked bitterly. "I can only imagine. 'Hey, Steve, I'm in love with your husband - you don't care if I take him for a romantic walk and maybe spend the night, do you?'"

And the worst part was, Steve - the self-sacrificing idiot that he was - would probably let them, even if it hurt him to do so.

"It is not uncommon for royalty to take lovers out of wedlock," T'Challa remarked calmly. "Mistresses, or…"

But Bucky was already shaking his head. "I won't - can't - do that to Steve," he said, scrubbing at his face roughly. He remembered Tony telling him the story of Steve proposing to him in his workshop, how fond he'd looked. "And Tony wouldn't want to, either."

T'Challa sighed deeply, and looked out into the jungle again. "Tony is an honorable man," he said quietly, before giving Bucky a small smile. "As are you, James Barnes." He paused, then sighed again, the smile slipping from his face.

"Those of us who are in positions of power... we make great sacrifices," he said solemnly. "Often at the expense of the things we hold dear. The fact that you are both willing to make this sacrifice - for your people, and your friend - shows great strength and loyalty."

He pierced Bucky with a look that was solemn and sorrowful at the same time. "However, I think you would be doing yourselves a great disservice, if you did not at least acknowledge what you both know in your hearts."

Bucky looked away, laughing wetly. "Even if it makes everything hurt more in the end?"

T'Challa smiled sadly. "Sometimes wounds need to hurt so they may heal, my friend," he said gently, reaching up and clasping Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I think I'd rather avoid the wound entirely," he said quietly, opening his eyes and staring at the sky.

T'Challa chuckled. "An option we don't always have, I'm afraid," he sighed.

Bucky huffed and looked away, at the jungle, and then the palace. "I, uh, think I'm going to," he started, motioning back inside and then taking a step in the direction.

"Of course," T'Challa said calmly, before he hesitated and added, "One other thing, before you go. I'd forgotten to mention it earlier."

Bucky stopped and stared at him expectedly, feeling a little nervous. The king had already surprised him twice today, and he wasn't sure he was ready for any more.

"I received a message from one of the watchtowers by the shore earlier today," T'Challa said, after clearing his throat. "It seems a ship flying under the Aavenge flag was spotted at sea."

Bucky's eyes widened. " Today?" he blurted in shock. "H-how - how long before…?"

"A day or two, perhaps more," T'Challa replied. He was watching Bucky carefully, as though gauging his reaction, which made Bucky realize he should probably be more enthusiastic than he was being.

"That's… good news," Bucky said lamely, his stomach in knots - and not in excitement.

They - he and Tony - were finally going to get to go home. Back to Aavenge, back to Sheild, back to Steve, back to everything.

It should have been a good thing - it was a good thing.

So why did the thought fill Bucky with dread?

"Unless, of course, you'd rather remain here," T'Challa said carefully, interrupting Bucky's train of thought.

Bucky blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I - what?"

T'Challa clasped his hands behind his back. "You need not return to your kingdom, if you truly have no wish to do so," he said quietly. "A few words and a little white lie, and the ship can be turned away. You could remain here, for as long as you need or desire." He smiled faintly. "Unless, of course, you had somewhere else entirely in mind. In any case, your country need not know where you are."

Bucky opened his mouth, then shut it, swallowing hard. "You… you would do that?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"If it is what you - both of you - wish," T'Challa replied, one corner of his mouth ticking up a fraction.

Bucky swallowed and looked around. It wasn't the same as home, but the jungle, the palace - even the river that had almost killed him and Tony - was all amazing, in its own unique way. In his short stay here, Bucky had already begun to see it almost as a second home, and he knew Tony loved it as well, for the technology if nothing else.

"You can, of course, think about it, and talk it over with Tony," T'Challa added, breaking Bucky out of his reverie.

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded, eyes on the panther statue below. Bucky thought it looked unsettling, but it was comforting at the same time, because it looked like the kind of thing Steve would have loved to draw.

Bucky looked up at T'Challa. "I think," he said quietly. "My mind is already made up."